So, round about 21 weeks ago, after a Friday night at the Wine Vaults, Stu and my world changed forever – without us even realising it. Fast forward five and a bit months, we’ve got married, seen our baby three times and had ALOT of hormones flying round.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to ramble on about all of that (mainly because I already have done so here – wedding blog and here – seeing our baby.) Instead, I’m going to talk about this rather eventful last week.
I’d been building up to Monday for a quite a while. Partly, because I knew we were going to have our 20 week scan and get to see everything was still okay with our baby and partly because I was booked in for my second covid vaccine. Now, I know the latter shouldn’t have been a big deal but because I’d been so sick with my first one and I’d heard horror stories about the effects of the second, I wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect of getting jabbed up again.
Anyway, when I woke up on Monday, I did everything to convince myself it was just a normal day, starting with my normal morning run. This was my first bad decision because as soon as I got out I began to feel shooting pains up my leg to my lower back meaning I had to cut my run short. By the time I got home the pain had got so bad that I could barely walk. Convinced I was getting some awful pregnancy paralysis (which I’m pretty sure now isn’t even actually a thing) I did the worst thing you can do when you’re in pain and started to google.
Thankfully, after a hundred phone calls to my doctor from me and Stu, we finally got through and I discovered I wasn’t actually dying but I just had the painful, but pretty normal, sciatica. Still feeling in pain but somewhat relieved, I tried to get on with my day as normal as possible until I had to go to my vaccine.
Unfortunately, the place I had to go for my second vaccine didn’t have parking like my first. This meant I had to endure a very painful hobble from the car to the centre only to get the sharp jab before making my way back to car when of course the heavens decided to open.
Arriving home, very wet, I felt relieved that at least one bit of the hard day was done and tried to focus on the exciting bit of seeing my baby rather than all the scary potential possibilities.
About an hour later Stu got home very surprised to see how bad my sciatica limp had got since this morning. And despite being very sympathetic he was finding it hard not to laugh due to my now likeness to dodgy pirate. As you can imagine, these jokes went down very well with a hormonal, in pain and very much on edge Alana.
I then gathered all the forms we needed for our appointment and we drove to the hospital. Driving down, Stu tried to cheer me up telling me how exciting it was that we were going to get to see our baby and asked me what my final guesses were on the gender. Sadly, all I could think was what if there isn’t a baby there now, what if I’ve done something wrong, what if this dream was going to end.
Parking up, we then had the long, and again painful, walk to the maternity ward. Here, we were greeted by possibly the world’s rudest receptionist who asked my name three times, barely looked at our letter (this is an important detail for later) and simply pointed at the row of seats we had to sit on.
Now, I know waiting rooms are never the most fun places but as we watched woman after woman go in for their appointment, whilst our appointment time came and went, this waiting room soon became my hell.
A good 45 minutes since we first arrived, Stu had enough of the waiting and went up to ask the rude receptionist what the hold up was, it was then she decided to properly look at our letter and she discovered we’d been given the wrong time, our appointment wasn’t at 2.10 as printed but in fact 3.10.
No apology or concern for us having waited that long, she told us just to go back and wait till our actual appointment time. 3.10 then came and went and by this point I’d had a good few hormonal tears from all the anxiety of the day.
Finally, at 3.40 the wait was finally over when we heard a midwife say “Alarrrrna!” Jumping up (well as quickly as I could with my bad leg, made even worse after sitting on the most uncomfortable reception chair) we walked over to the scan room.
Entering the room there were three ladies all set to do my scan. The youngest of the three then reminded us this was going to be a long scan as there was a lot to check. Just what we wanted to hear after our two hour wait. She then asked if we wanted to find out the gender and we explained how we had a gender reveal planned for the Friday so could we get the answer in an envelope. Sticking with the helpful theme of the day they couldn’t due to “protocol” so we were just going to have to find out today and keep it a secret till Friday – great.
Luckily, by this point I was way beyond caring about gender reveals and just so relieved to finally be having our scan. My annoyance faded even further the second she turned on the screen and our baby not only was there but had a strong heartbeat.
We then saw the baby’s heart, kidneys, bowel and v big lips – all absolutely fine. Of course after seeing all this, it wasn’t long before I was in floods of tears again. After what seemed like forever the top sonographer confirmed everything else was okay and we had a very health / lively baby.
The first nurse then checked we still wanted to find out what the gender was and before Stu had a chance to answer I blurted out yes – we had waited this long already I couldn’t wait any longer!
V undignified for our little baby, the sonographer then moved the camera to inbetween their legs. After lots of moving around I was convinced I saw a little willy and started to picture myself in an even more football obsessed house ( if that’s even possible)
However, to my surprise the sonographer said those three lines indicate a girl! I of course began to cry again, so excited that we were going to have a little Princess and so happy that everything was okay.
I continued to cry like a crazy person, all the way to the car park, throughout our trip for a post sonography subway and my phone call to my very concerned mum.
Since then, my leg has got slightly better (although I do still have a limp that Stu finds very funny) I’ve got over the sickness of the vaccine and most importantly, we’ve shared our wonderful news with our lovely friends and family, lighting up the Spinnaker tower pink in honour of our princess.
So, now after the most emotional week (actually five and a bit months) I know this worrying is going to be a common part of parenting but thankfully the joy we’ve had so far has made it totally worth it.